Gravity
by Panda Slippers
Summary: Clary finds a new artistic medium, and decides she hates gravity. “Something always brings me back to you, it never takes too long...”


So, this is the first fic I've written in a while, and my first Mortal Instruments fic at all. It's been a couple of months since I've read the books, and I don't have them with me - they're at home, while I'm away at school. So I'm sorry if the characters are out of character at all. This came to me out of nowhere, while I was listening to Sara Bareilles's song Gravity. If you haven't heard it, listen to it. It's really amazing - as are all of her songs!

So here it is, a quick one shot that was written in about an hour, and only edited by me, so there may be some errors. I apologize for that. If you see any, PLEASE let me know so I can correct them.

Disclaimers: I Do not own Clary, Jace, Raphael or any part of the Mortal Instruments trilogy. Nor do I own any rights to any of Sara Bareilles's genius. I'm just borrowing them.

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_Something always brings me back to you.  
It never takes too long.  
No matter what I say or do, _

_I still feel you here 'till the moment I'm gone._

_You hold me without touch.  
You keep me without chains.  
I never wanted anything so much_

_Than to drown in your love and not feel your rain._

What was she doing? Simon was the one in the band – sort of – not her! She'd never been a writer; she was an artist. Pencils, paint, oils, crayons – those were her tools. She could make magic happen (apparently literally) with the things she drew. She could spend hours lost in her own world, sketching and doodling. Shading and playing with colors until it was perfect. But give her a 500 word essay or a creative writing assignment, and she'd sit there in front of a blank word document on her screen for hours.

So what was she doing? Writing – writing _lyrics_ to be specific – was so not her style. Yet here she sat, on the rooftop of the old hotel and current vampire boarding house. It had become her new hideaway ever since Raphael had so generously offered it to her. Bite free guarantee and everything.

"You look like you need a place with space," he had said with a knowing look. She tried to tell him that the institute was huge and definitely not lacking in open space. Plus she had her place at Luke's. And the whole city was hers for the taking!

His only reply had been, "Sometimes you need to be alone. Just know it's there whenever you need it." She had thanked him, but dismissed the idea. That was before she started her training at the institute.

She had started to befriend Isabella and Max, and even Alex was starting to warm up to her. It's not like Jace was avoiding her – no quite the opposite, in fact. He was doing his very best to be a great older brother to her, just like he had promised. That, apparently, included helping her train.

What was so incredibly infuriating was how unaffected he seemed to be. She was in love with the one person whom she was truly forbidden to be in love with. After all that pain and avoidance, she finally decides that it doesn't matter anymore. Who cares what people say, what they think? She loves him, and is finally ready to fight for them, when he gives up. He gave up for the both of them. She had cried herself to sleep – on the lucky nights she was able to fall asleep. She hardly ate, having lost almost all of her appetite and her already lanky frame was thinning.

Yet there he was – cocky smirk in place on that beautiful visage. Golden hair, haloing his face. His confident, casual swagger never missing a beat. Did it really not affect him? Not at all?

_Set me free, leave me be. _

_I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.  
Here I am and I stand so tall, _

_Just the way I'm supposed to be.  
But you're on to me and all over me._

_You loved me 'cause I'm fragile.  
When I thought that I was strong.  
But you touch me for a little while_

_And all my fragile strength is gone_.

Whatever happened to the old Clary? The one who was strong and sure? Who never needed anyone but her best friend Simon? When did a boy ever occupy her thoughts and motivate her actions? Never. Not until Jace, anyway. She was smitten ever since she first saw him in that club. The night of her birthday, though. That's where she was lost forever.

Now, thanks to that one night, she was doomed. Thanks to that one boy – that one, glorious, unaffected boy – she had become this pathetic excuse of her former self. Thanks to that damn boy, she was sitting on a rooftop in the frozen New York night, writing lyrics in her _sketchbook_! He sketchbook which had lately taken on a theme.

_Set me free, leave me be. _

_I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.  
Here I am and I stand so tall, _

_just the way I'm supposed to be.  
But you're on to me and all over me._

_I live here on my knees as I  
Try to make you see that you're  
Everything I think I need here on the ground.  
But you're neither friend nor foe though I  
Can't seem to let you go.  
The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down  
You're keeping me down  
You're onto me, onto me and all over…_

"Nice night." Raphael's voice shattered her out of her thoughts. She turned to look at him. He stood five feet from her, at the edge of the roof, looking at the city.

"I didn't hear you come up."

"It's one of the advantages to being undead." He was quiet for a moment. Clary looked at him, waiting (although for what, she didn't know). Without turning he said again, "Nice night."

"Yeah, I guess," she replied, gazing at the city around her.

"The nice thing about being alone is that it gives you time to think. The bad thing about being alone, is that it gives you time to think." He turned to look at her with that knowing gaze again. She took a moment to read it further. There was understanding, but no pity or judging.

"Yeah," she brilliantly replied, relief washing over her. It wasn't really like she could talk to Simon about this. No one else would understand. At least, no one but –

She cut that train of thought off. That train of thought was the reason she was freezing her ass off on a rooftop with a vampire.

"What have you been thinking about? Anything you'd care to share?" He was inviting, but not prying.

Clary paused. "Gravity." He looked at her with a curious expression, clearly that was not the answer he was expecting. "It sucks," she went on. "You're going about your business, perfectly content, when out of nowhere it pulls you to the ground, messing up any happiness you had. What's wrong with trying to fly, or float even? What's so damned great about being on the ground?!"

He sent an expressive glance her way. "Gravity is unit and undifferentiable. Gravity is comprehensive, inclusively embracing and permeative, is non-focusable and shadowless,  
and is omni-integrative. All of which characteristics of gravity are also the characteristics of love. Hence Love is a metaphysical gravity."

She looked at him in awe.

"Richard Buckminster."

Clary didn't know what to say, so she just stared. "Being alone is good, but don't isolate yourself. I'm glad you came, little Shadowhunter." He squeezed her shoulder and went inside.

She sat there for indefinable moments, her hair whipping around her face her the pages of her sketchbook dancing in the wind. Thinking about what Raphael had said, she glanced down, read what she had written and hummed a tune. The written word could certainly be a form of artistry, she concluded. And she was an artist, after all. Maybe she had simply found a new medium.

She picked up her discarded pencil and continued to write, a hauntingly angelic figure in mind.

_Something always brings me back to you,  
it never takes too long…_

_

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There it was. I hope you liked it! I'm not sure how I feel about it; maybe I'm just a masochist to post this. Oh well. Please review and let me know what you thought!

P.S.


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